Wrath of an Angry God
by The Mushroom Fairy
Summary: Luc thought he could kill God? Revenge can be so sweet...even for the Supreme Being. Loaded with juicy gore for each of the Destroyers. Complete.
1. Sarah's Judgment

**Part I: Sarah's Judgment**

_"Let tears run down like a river day and night;  
Give yourself no relief;  
Give your eyes no rest."_

**Lamentations 2:18**

It was dark. And cold.

A cave? Is that why the sounds of her breathing echoed?

No. It was cold, but not dark. It only seemed thus because her eyes were closed.

Sarah slowly let her drowsy, sea-green eyes open, and her confusion became even greater than before. Surely, upon waking, her surroundings should have made some sense...? But they did not.

It was no longer dark. She was not in a cave.

_A coffin!_ her mind screamed.

But it wasn't a coffin.

She was to be punished. No one had said so, and yet she knew. She knew her Judgment had come, as it would to all of the wicked, and there was no escape of the harsh penalty she had yet to receive.

Had it all been worth it? Giving up her life and soul, countless other lives, to serve her master? Her false god? Was it worth this punishment?

She realized, rousing to full awareness, that she was trapped within her own powerful rune, the Flowing Rune, a prisoner inside its unforgiving dungeon. It seemed made of glass, tinted blue so that the light (_Where is that coming from?_) refracted into her prison cell and dyed everything the color of a pale sapphire. The confines were small--too small for the claustrophobic girl--a single cell for a single soul. She had room to turn about in a full circle, nothing more.

Sarah smiled. It really was beautiful. The light came from everywhere, but nowhere, faint but maybe it could offer some warmth in this wretchedly constricted, cold place. And yet there was no heat in its glow.

Still, there was beauty in this magical ride. Yes, ride... She was falling, wasn't she? No...floating, perhaps. The rune was floating in water. How deep? How far would she sink? To the bottom of the sea?

Sarah loved the sea. She remembered days with Master...er...who?

Wasn't there a castle by the sea? And a lady...?

The sorceress's memories were stolen from her before she could grasp them, like fragments of a dream fading upon awakening from sleep. At first she was annoyed with God for taking these memories away. But then she forgot what had made her angry in the first place.

Beautiful...everything was so beautiful, calm and tranquil outside the crystal... And yet, it was so cold... Perhaps...perhaps she could reach beyond her confines and touch that beam of light...?

Sarah placed her palms against the side of the glass, but instead of feeling heat, her skin stuck to the rune as though to ice. She gasped in pain, trying to wrench free, but her sudden motion merely caused the rune to spin out of control, turning upside down.

There was nothing to hold her steady, nothing to grasp. The girl's hands came free of the side of the ice-cold rune, only to allow her body to be flung here and there. Her body slammed into all sides of the coffin-like crystal, making her stomach churn with nausea.

Sarah put her hands out, one on each side of the prison--her elbows bent, as there was hardly room to stretch out both arms--and prayed silently that it would. _just. stop. spinning._

And finally it did just that, and the helpless woman was huddled sickly on the floor of her prison, shivering from the cold and trying to choke back the bile threatening to force its way between her lips.

For a moment, the sorceress kept her eyes shut tight, trying to think of nothing at all so her stomach would stop its violent revolt. Finally, when she could stand the darkness of her eyelids no longer, she dared to lift her head.

The water outside the rune was no longer blue, but black. Black, and yet the ray of light remained--however high overhead it was now. Had the capsule spun completely upside down? It was impossible to tell. But the tomb had grown even colder, still descending.

How long did she sit on the floor of her prison chamber? Hours? Days? Or merely minutes? There was no way of knowing. She knew--she felt it--that the rune was sinking, perhaps faster than before. But the light remained overhead, and nothing outside changed.

At least, not for a while. Not for an hour. Not for a day. Not for years or perhaps only seconds. But then...something did change.

She couldn't tell when she first noticed them, but suddenly there were figures dancing--no, swimming--around her. Not in the rune, but without; dark figures swam around her with graceful movements like fish.

_They're so beautiful..._ she thought at once. Happy, smiling, swimming mer-people coming to keep her company.

Sarah smiled again with child-like innocence. She spun around in slow circles, humming the tune to a song whose words eluded her, moving circles in the opposite direction of the swarming ghosts.

But the ghosts weren't smiling, Sarah suddenly realized.

One of the..._things_...pressed its face up against the icy cold glass. And Sarah screamed.

She had never seen anything so horrifying in all her life. It wasn't even human, surely. This...thing, this...creature...had pallid, blue-tinted skin that was stretched taut over a skeleton-thin face. Its eyes had no irises, no pupils, and no white; they were simply pale, yellow egg-yokes floating in a gruesome mask. The gaping mouth was void of teeth, yet it hissed her name like a snake with its rotting, purpled tongue.

"Sssssssaaaarrrraaaahhhhh....."

Her name was echoed on the torn lips of all those swarming, damned souls that clung to her coffin like maggots to a fresh corpse. They clawed at the glass while Sarah screamed, covering her ears to block out their hoarse, rasping shrieks of rage. Their fingernails, ripping away and leaving streaks of deep ruby blood and slimy pus on the rune-cage, made hideous scraping noises along the glass. They turned her capsule all around again, tossing her to-and-fro without method, destroying her sense of balance.

Sarah prayed for peace.

She should have known it would not come without a price.

One sharp claw finally penetrated the rune. Sarah heard the glass cracking and couldn't stop her eyes from flying open in terror. The creatures had all fled as suddenly as they'd approached, but the damage had been done. The sorceress blinked away the cold droplets as they hit her eyelashes, but the trickle soon became a fountain.

_Cold...so cold..._

How long had it been? Hours? Days? Or merely minutes? There was no way of knowing. The point was that it had taken ages (and yet, those ages passed by so terribly quickly) for a pool of icy water to spread along the bottom of the capsule.

Sarah's feet were wet, and ice cold. She had been cold before, very cold, but nothing compared to this. Was the crack widening? Somehow more water seemed to find its way inside to get her. Her hair was damp, her shoes were damp. And before too long, the water that had been dripping on her head poured down with more force. She must have blacked out for a moment, or perhaps fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, she was up to her ankles in ice water.

"Oh...God..." she breathed at last, watching her icy breath form in the air. "Oh, God! Oh, GOD!!!" She was screaming now, the realization finally striking her full-force: she was going to drown.

"Oh...God, no! Please, God! Don't--!"

But she had no right to ask God for anything. She was already dead; judged; damned.

Sarah shrieked until her ears rang with the intensity of her pitiful cries, screams that could not reach outside the confines of her coffin. She beat her hands against the rune, wanting out. If she could just get out of this death-trap, perhaps she could swim to safety. But did she want to face the souls of the damned? They were still out there, weren't they?

She gave up slapping at the glass when it started to tip. She didn't want to send it spinning again, and certainly didn't want those things coming back to investigate.

There had to be some way out...right?

Her magic...she could use her magic!

Magic...

_...Magic...?_

She had no idea how to cast a spell. But somehow she knew it wouldn't have worked anyway. How could she use her rune, when she was trapped inside of it?

The fracture widened. She heard it crack.

It sounded like a shower inside the Flowing Rune. Water poured down on her head, freezing cold but, what was worse, very wet.

Sarah shivered as she felt her skirt dampen just above her knees. And then she realized, with some finality, that she was going to die.

The panic she had felt was gone, but there was no peace in the knowledge that it would soon be over. She couldn't feel at rest, because before it was over, there would be the agonizing pain of drowning. The Flowing Rune was filling up too fast, now, it seemed. She would have no chance of freezing to death first.

Sarah cried, sobbing silently as the water reached her waistline. The water fell over her now in torrents too strong to wipe out of her eyes, mingling with her hot tears and turning them to the temperature of the greater force.

But the rune wasn't the only thing flooding.

Suddenly, all of her memories returned, leaving her with a grief more unbearable than the waters chilling her bones. She remembered Master Luc...the sunlight reflecting on his auburn hair, the warmth in his voice, the kindness in his eyes... She would never see him again, never hear him speak, never feel his touch... She was going to die, shivering, cold and alone...just as she had always feared. Her worst nightmare was becoming a reality. In more ways than one.

Everything went hollow as the water swallowed up her ears, rising higher.

"Gluh-rrp!" Sarah sputtered icy water out of her mouth as she stood on her tiptoes, trying to stay where there was air. But there was no use. In a matter of seconds--or centuries, depending on how God turned the wheel of time--she would have no air left to breathe.

"Gyaaaarrrrrlllll....!!!!"

That was her final breath. Why--oh, _why_?!--had she decided to take that last gulp of air? It would have ended much more quickly if she had simply drained her lungs and refused to breathe...wouldn't it have? But instead she had choked down a mouthful of half-air, half-water, gargled it, and already the process of drowning had begun.

And....GOD--! She was still trapped in that glass coffin!

Sarah decided she had but one chance to survive--and, God! how she wanted her life back! Anything! She'd give anything for a breath of air! She never thought she could have traded her love for Luc for anything in the entire universe, but she'd never before felt this burning in her chest for just one breath of air--!

Sarah beat her fists against the sides of the Flowing Rune once more. At least she tried to. But her movements underwater were much slower and much, much weaker. She had no strength behind her already-weak limbs.

Suddenly, her body did what was only natural--it tried to take a breath.

God--! The pain--!!!

It wasn't what she'd expected; Sarah did not simply hold her breath and die quietly. Her body revolted, trying to take in air that wasn't there to breathe. Her mouth opened of its own accord; her nostrils flared, desperate for a taste of fresh air. But there was nothing to breathe.

Nothing, that is, save for the icy waters of Hell.

She choked, coughing on liquid, her eyes wide and bulging. She grasped at her own throat, as though to stop herself from trying to take in any more water. But her struggles were futile, and before long, it grew dark, and her body found its way sinking to the bottom of the glass coffin.

She wasn't dead yet.

Sarah looked around with her burst eyeballs, unable to close them. She couldn't move. Her body was no longer sucking in the fatal waters--apparently, her lungs were as full as they could get.

No. Not yet.

She let out a hiccough, and that was the last.

The light above her tomb seemed to have all but faded. It grew dimmer, and dimmer... And then everything went black. And Sarah knew no more, though her eyes remained eternally open.


	2. Yuber's Eternal Punishment

**Part II: Yuber's Eternal Punishment**

_"Should the women eat their offspring,  
The children they have cuddled?  
You have invited as to a feast day_

_The terrors that surround me."_

**Lamentations 2:20; 2:22**

In all the demon's days of dwelling on Earth, he had never ever felt such intense hunger pains, that familiar thirst for blood intensified a thousandfold. _God!!!_ He was so hungry!!!

Something had happened, something Yuber couldn't recall. But here he was, stranded on this island.

_Shipwrecked?_ he wondered. He'd run into similar problems in the past. But something didn't seem right...about the situation, about the place. First of all, he had no idea how he'd gotten there, and, secondly, the ocean's waters did not move--there were no waves, no ripples, nothing. The water was black and gel-like; Yuber was afraid of it.

After hanging around the shoreline for days upon days, perhaps for weeks (he couldn't be sure, as a perpetual twilight had settled over the land), Yuber decided no one would be coming for him. Either they didn't know he'd been left behind...or he'd been intentionally marooned.

But...by _who_?

His mind was foggy... Yuber was sure there must be a reason for his banishment, if that's what it was. He'd like to leave...he should be able to just open a portal to any destination...and yet he couldn't recall how the thing was supposed to be accomplished!

_It will come back to me_, he thought. And, finally, he started for the jungle, realizing that nothing could be accomplished--eating, especially--by staying on the deserted beach for the rest of eternity. And eternity it would be, because Yuber was immortal.

His main priority was food, now that he'd decided he was alone and apparently no one was searching for him. A nice, bloody chunk of meat was what he craved. And yet he found no animals. The forest was as void of life as that dead sea out there.

Yuber used both his swords to hack away at the foliage, but it grew back as quickly as he chopped, until he had to work twice as hard, making a cyclone of his flinging blades to get through the thick jungle plants.

_Damn... It's getting hot!_

And so it was. The sun had finally risen, but it was baking him. Yuber paused, surprised at the sweat that drenched him already. He tossed his hat to the ground, mopping at his forehead with his coat sleeve before letting that garment fall away as well.

_Hot... So hot..!_

The demon, now bare-chested, retrieved his swords from their resting post against a tree trunk, and once again took to the task of clearing a path. The roots of the bamboo were thick and hard, and all the other plants and their vines were covered with sharp briars. Yuber's body got nicked from all sides, his skin getting scratched by the thorns and burning from the heat of the sun.

After an endless trek, Yuber stopped for a short rest. He set his swords aside and wiped his face with his bare hands, his palms coming away as though he'd dipped them into water.

_Water...._

Damn, it's hot!

I'm so thirsty!

He smiled at the scent of water. There must be a waterfall or stream nearby...

The sweltering jungle heat made Yuber want to rip away the rest of his clothes--what little remained--but he was forced to abstain, as the forest's dangerous foliage would have shredded him to ribbons. He had no choice but to pick up his swords and continue on.

He kept going, and going...getting hotter and hotter, growing more and more weary...yet there was no end in sight. The smell of the water seemed even stronger, but... _where is it?_

Yuber stopped suddenly, mid-hack, his left-hand sword falling to the ground. He had nearly stepped on the top hat he'd earlier discarded.

"What the--!?!" he growled aloud. He tossed his other sword down and stormed through the tall, thick grass and vines, the scratches going unheeded and unfelt, driving on until he came to what he feared--the beach.

"What kind of sick joke is this?!?!?" he screamed at no one in particular. No one, because there was no one there to hear him, and no one, because Yuber knew there was no God.

But God knew better.

Days passed. Yuber tried--unsuccessfully--to get back into the forest to retrieve his swords, if not to find out where he'd taken a wrong turn, but there was no way to get back inside. The forest seemed to have closed up and purposefully shut him out. The palm trees came together to form a solid wall of wood, their boughs so high that he couldn't possibly have reached them, and the thorns along the tree trunks too thick to climb--especially now that he was all but naked, having lost his shirt and hat, and torn his long, black pants into shorts.

So now Yuber paced the beach. He couldn't stand the fucking heat! It was too harsh! If he stayed in one spot for very long, he would feel his skin burning and could actually hear the sizzling as his flesh cooked.

And so he walked, without sleep, for what seemed days. Or had it been days? Perhaps it was the same day, and it had not yet ended. He couldn't be sure any more, because the sun never set. It moved, though. The sun rotated in whatever direction Yuber walked, so that no matter where on the island he went (he'd marched the circumference several times, marking his spot in the sand to make sure he was right) he was always directly under the glaring rays.

_So tired...so hot...so thirsty! And--GOD!--so hungry!!!  
_  
_God!_ What he wouldn't do for a drink!!! For a bite of food! He could have starved for years now; there was no way of knowing. He felt thinner, weaker... It had to have been more than a day, probably more than a week. How long could his human half sustain without water?

Twice, as he walked full-circle around the island, Yuber tried counting his paces and turning them into seconds. One second for every pace...that meant sixty paces made a minute...

One walk around the island had taken him forty minutes. The second walk had taken him twelve. Obviously, whatever was causing this to happen to him, it--or whoever--didn't want Yuber to stay sane for much longer.

_Of course not; because this is my punishment._

Suddenly Yuber halted his staggering, drunken gait.

"Who said that?!" he growled, but it sounded more like a weak, frightened choke. And why not? His throat was parched. He couldn't even drink the sweat dripping from his pores because the salt made him crave fresh water even more, just as the sea water would have, if he'd been fool enough to drink it. Or _could_ he drink that grey jelly stuff?

He knew no one had spoken to him. But where had that idea come from? And why should he be punished? He had done nothing wrong...had he? No. No more than usual.

The demon's stomach gave a loud, complaining groan, and he moaned aloud in agony.

"GOD!" Yuber screeched, falling to his knees. "Give me some food!!!" He still didn't know who he was shouting to, but it felt good to hear someone's voice--even his own scratchy, hoarse one.

"You want food?" a voice asked.

Yuber spun around on the beach, sending a spray of sand flying at the stranger who had approached.

Only it wasn't A stranger. It was a TRIBE of strangers. Six men and women stood in ragged clothing, presumably self-made of the only materials at hand--the plants. They were the most hideous humans Yuber had ever seen, their flesh covered in boils and leaking pus from open, infectious sores. They reeked some ungodly stench, and the ravenous looks these pox-faced, sickly-thin maggots gave Yuber made him want to wretch.

_Disgusting...  
_  
And yet...and yet...they were alive. They were living, breathing...mortals.

This meant three things to Yuber: food, water, and shelter, preferably in that order.

"Yes," Yuber croaked at the front man, "I want food."

"You come to village," the man stated. He turned without waiting for a response, expecting Yuber to follow. Which, of course, he did. The people behind him stared at him, making some sort of gnashing motions with their teeth. They looked as though they'd skipped quite a few meals, themselves.

But Yuber wasn't too worried. It wasn't as though they were going to eat _him_, for God's sake.

The village was dark. Yuber couldn't believe it, but the trees grew in a canopy-like roof overhead, almost completely obscuring the sun. Yet the heat blazed inside, seemingly trapped by their cavernous confines. And the stench..._God_... Where did it come from?

No one in the bizarre village spoke to Yuber. Hundreds or perhaps even thousands of scabbing, rotting corpse-like bodies walked the strange wooden bridges connecting this house to that store to that street over there...

_Almost looks like Le Buque_, Yuber thought wistfully, but then he forgot where and even what Le Buque was. He shrugged. _Nothing important, probably._

"Can I have food now?" Yuber asked as the leader-guy led him along. He looked back a few times to see how many people were following them, but there were ever more, and soon he lost track of the sheer multitude of them.

It seemed strange, but this man in front was the only one who had spoken to him...or spoken at all, for that matter. For as many people lined the bridges and came to their windows to peek out at the new guest, there was not a whisper to be heard among the streets.

"Yes, food...soon," came the primitive reply.

"Okaaay," Yuber said slowly, still walking along the bridge. He hoped these things were sturdy. He couldn't see anything below because of the darkness, but he imagined quite a fall. Or a pit of sorts.

He could see a platform of some kind, just ahead. It was made of solid earth--_thank God!_--and all bridges seemed to connect to it. There was a raised section in the middle, like a stage, and Yuber wondered what it all meant. He would soon discover its purpose.

No one else came near when Yuber and the chief walked onto the platform. The man led Yuber to the center, to the raised part, where there was some sort of... How to describe it? It was like a circle of stone, under the earth. Almost like a buried disk...or a plate. A buried dinner plate. A rather large one, at that. Four or five people could have eaten from it.

The man looked at Yuber. "We eat here. Sit. Enjoy."

Yuber nodded. So he was the guest of honor, after all!

The man turned to some men standing on a bridge near their bit of earth. "Bring food," he commanded.

"And drink!" Yuber added. "Plenty to drink!"

The man looked at him as if to say, _Oh, like I'd forget THAT!_ But he said nothing.

A few moments later, two warrior-looking men dragged a woman's body out of the crowd and threw her down onto the plate.

_Ah...native politics_, Yuber sighed, assuming the ragged urchin to be a thief being brought before their king. He hoped this wouldn't interfere with his meal.

But he was wrong.

Dead wrong.

The old man knelt down next to the girl, brushing her hair away from her face. The strands came away in his hand as though they'd never been attached to her dry scalp.

Yuber realized with a start that the girl was dead.

There were no eyeballs left in the corpse's head. The bone of her jaw was clearly visible from the missing skin under her shriveled lips where a chin should have been, and the cartilage of her nose was completely gone, leaving nothing but two very large holes gaping in the center of her face. They were absolutely oozing with insects and worms.

Even the demon, Yuber, the Black Knight, was revolted... too appalled to speak.

But it got worse. Oh, God....! It got much, much worse....

The old chieftain leaned over and reached forward, delicately lifting one of the girl's stiff arms. He bent his head over the limb, taking a deep breath as though savoring the scent, then parted his lips, and pressed his mouth to her pallid, dry skin.

And he bit down on the rotted flesh.

And he chewed--oh, God, he chewed!!!

Blood that was no longer red spurted from torn, ragged veins over the body, followed by a seeping white liquid that Yuber couldn't have identified if he'd wanted to. There were things that just weren't meant to be known--by man or monster; the living had no business knowing what the dead knew...it just wasn't right!!!

And, certainly, neither was this!

The old man paused, waiting for Yuber to join him. Yuber had no such intentions, however, and stood with disgust blazing in his color-contrasted eyes. The old man looked down at his victim--or _was_ it his?--and gently lifted one of her withered hands, in offering, turning the arm towards him to show smooth skin not yet gnawed through.

"...Fuck, no." Yuber shook his head slowly, then faster, with more conviction. He glared at the thousands upon thousands of villagers staring at him. "Fuck, NO!!!"

"Yuber."

The demon turned around to face the woman who had spoken, and gasped. Why the hell did she seem so familiar?

Suddenly, all of Yuber's memories rushed black, staggering him in their intensity. He knew this woman, but he did not know how he got here, even still. Maybe she could tell him. But...her name... They'd fought together, and fought against each other. Two separate wars... They'd both been eager to dip their hands in the blood of those wars, whether Lucia would admit it or not.

The Karaya Clan's late chief looked straight at him now from the crowd. But something wasn't right about her...about the way he remembered her...

"Yuber, I think you'd better take a bite of what you're being offered."

"I most certainly will not!! Are you crazy? Is everyone here fucking insane?!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Lucia asked without an inflection in her tone.

"Nnoooo," Yuber said slowly, shaking his head in confusion. "I never said I wanted to eat someone for dinner. I haven't eaten, or drank...in...I can't even remember my last meal!"

"If you want to eat, then you'd better get started with her, over there," Lucia said, pointing to the corpse, oblivious to his earlier refusal.

The old man looked up at Yuber hopefully, an encouraging smile on his face. It was then that Yuber realized...this man...his teeth...

"...Is he...is he what I think...he is...?"

The demon man turned back to Lucia, but he saw it in her as well--in her eyes. Or, rather, the lack of anything in her eyes. Lucia could not see him. She couldn't see anything anymore. Her eyes had lost their spark, their light... It was dark here because there was no need for light. Why should the dead need to see?

"We're waiting, Yuber," Lucia said, a vacant expression on her once-beautiful face. "We're all...waiting...for you..."

"To what!?!" Yuber screamed in terror. "To eat your flesh? Drink you blood!?!?"

"Yes."

The demon began to tremble. "Who are all these people? Why me?"

"Because it's what you've always wanted," Lucia said. "You've asked God for that which you desired most, and now you have it."

"I don't understand!" Yuber screamed, tearing at his long, dirty, sweaty blonde hair.

"You killed everyone here by your own hands, Yuber. You wanted blood, you wanted death, and now...you have it." Lucia's voice was different than he recalled--deeper, hoarse. Yuber knew why; her vocal cords were drying out, like everyone else's had, long before. "You will eat each body you destroyed, beginning with that one over there." Again, she slowly lifted an arm and uncurled her fisted hand to point to the corpse on the platter. "In order, for each life you took--beginning with the first and ending with the last--you will set our souls free."

"I didn't kill you," Yuber argued.

"You did," Lucia contested. "I was one of the last, before..."

"...Before what?"

"Yuber."

"What?!"

"The sooner you get started, the sooner you will finish. There are thousands more waiting. It's better to eat them fresh; you'll see what I mean when you taste of that one."

Yuber turned back to the woman on the dais. Her rotting face...looked frighteningly familiar...but why?

The demon thought back...

The first...life...he'd taken... Oh...God... _Mother!_

Yuber's mother had died in childbirth, as did all women who bore the child of an incubus.

But...Yuber hadn't done that on purpose--!

"What's he doing?!" Yuber gasped, clutching his roiling stomach. The old man had resumed the task of chewing Yuber's mother's arm.

"Helping you," Lucia said. "He hasn't been here long, but he is impatient to be set free, as are we all. Please, Yuber...feast. I admit that I, too, am eager for release..."

"Make him stop!" Yuber screamed, but Lucia remained motionless. The demon rushed forward, knocking the old man away from his mother's body. "NO!" he screamed. "No one else touches her!!!" He turned to Lucia, pleading. "...I can't.... I can't eat all these people, Lucia!"

"You must," Lucia insisted. "You have no choice, Yuber. There is no other food. There is no other drink. You will feast, or you will suffer. You can never eat to your fill, but you can never be hungry, as long as you devour our bodies. Starving will only cause you pain, but it will not kill you. You will writhe and moan on the ground while we weep; you will beg for mercy, but this _is_ your mercy, Yuber. This is the only way to escape. Yuber...you must feed."

Things became all too clear to the demon. The situation made perfect sense, considering. The demon didn't recall each life he'd taken, but now he would never forget. Starting with his mother, whose face he'd never set eyes on in life, but knew that at one time must have resembled his own. "...Mother."

Yuber knelt down next to the body. The old man had crawled away, burying himself in the rest of the crowd, out of Yuber's way. Without turning back to her, he asked of Lucia, "When I complete this task...am I free to go?"

"Oh, yes," Lucia sighed, a wicked smile spreading across her paled, dead face. "Yes, Yuber. When you finish me off, as your final meal, we're both...free...to go..."

The demon looked down at his mother's thin, skeletal arm, holding it gently in his two hands. Could he really...? He had no choice.

Yuber bent over his mother's body, much in the way the old man had done, and opened his mouth, ever-so-slightly. He pressed his lips to cold flesh. He was revolted. He dropped the arm, turned his head and took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Then he tried again. And this time he succeeded.

A titanic cheer arose from the gaping jowls and decaying throats of all those thousands present, as well as the hundreds, thousands, MILLIONS of decomposing bodies waiting outside in the black gel; a thankful sigh for the first swallow of all the flesh that had yet to be devoured.........


	3. Albert's Pride, and His Folly

**Part III: Albert's Pride, and His Folly**

_"Pride goes before destruction,  
And a haughty spirit before a fall.  
Better to be of a humble spirit with the lowly,  
Than to divide the spoil with the proud."_

**Proverbs 16:18-19**

Despite that the ground was trembling beneath his feet and the columns toppling to his left and right, Albert Silverberg felt like laughing. How clever, how cunning, how damned _ingenious_ he'd been! How brilliant, to use Luc's scheme for his own purposes, and to succeed so flawlessly!

Albert had never actually believed that Luc could take his ridiculous plans--plans to destroy god--so far; a minor miscalculation of absolutely no consequence. He had been right in predicting that his little brother and his motley army could take down the Masked Bishop--no, not masked any longer. _Let us call him the Mad Bishop!_

Now Albert did laugh, at his own wit. _Oh, I am a genius!_

The strategist's humor was cut brief, however, as a great shake went through the hall he'd been running along in his hurried escape from the Sindarian temple. He fell to his knees, feeling his skin scrape hard against the stone highway. Albert tried to stand, but the earthquake wouldn't stop its convulsions long enough for him to steady even his palms flat on the ground. The ground...was it groaning? Could the earth do that?

_No! Oh, shit--the column!_

Albert looked up just in time to see the huge, cylindrical support structure come crashing down upon him. And he couldn't move. God dammit, he couldn't move!

Then suddenly there was silence. Stillness.

_...Is it over?_

Albert uncovered his head, sitting up from where he'd curled up into a tiny ball of terrified mortal flesh. He slowly opened his eyes, shocked to see that the path ahead of him was clear.

_What...the hell...?_

He spun around, then realized that the huge stone column had fallen behind--and not on top of him.

"Shit," he breathed. "Oh, shit...." That was close--almost too close.

Too close for comfort, at any rate. Albert stood and brushed his jacket and knees, surprised that the fabric hadn't torn when he'd fallen. In fact, his knees weren't even sore.

Smirking, the strategist continued on his way out of the temple, now at a leisurely, self-assured pace. The danger was over; he'd succeeded.

Albert stepped out of the dark cavern and into bright sunlight. Ah! Almost home free. Now he just had to remember the way out of this place.

It was so very still in the crumbling ruins of the road where the Sindarians had once thrived. How many people must have crossed these bridges, how may children must have played in the streets, how many lovers must have strolled... Fools. All of them, fools. Fools to think themselves invincible, to not see their own imminent destruction.

He almost felt like whistling. In fact, he decided to give it a try. But the sound fell eerily on his ears, the only sound in the land of the dead. Behind him, nothing had changed. The temple hadn't crumbled apart, at least not on the outside. But that didn't mean that it wouldn't. Best to just hurry and get away.

Why weren't the birds singing? It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the wind was completely stilled.

Where was everyone? Was Albert the only survivor?

It wouldn't surprise him. They were all so very stupid. They may have stopped Luc, but they'd all given up their lives to do it. Why should they have bothered? Luc's idiotic scheme probably wouldn't have worked, anyway.

Probably...

Seriously, to try and kill god...

_...and I helped...._

Albert stopped dead in his tracks.

_Haven't I come by this way before?_ He thought he recognized that particular bit of crumbled wall. But he couldn't be sure.

But still....

Albert decided to take the opposite direction he thought he'd been on. It seemed he'd circled back by mistake somehow.

_What was I thinking about....? Ah, yes. Fools. All of them, fools._

Eventually Albert came to a bridge. He crossed, hardly thinking twice about where he was walking. This looked familiar; he'd have no trouble getting out of this place on his own.

Albert thought about Caesar, how foolishly his brother had chosen the opposing side, and worked for free--he didn't get paid, he didn't get rewarded, he gained nothing... So why bother? Wasn't it better to work on the side of the powerful, rather than the side of the weak? No matter who was in the right, if there was nothing to be gained, why...?

_Fool._

And--hadn't he just crossed this bridge? From the other side?

Albert paused again. He frowned. Walking over to the side of the bridge, he leaned over to look down below. _Was this...?_

"Hmph." It didn't matter. He'd just keep going on--he couldn't have gotten turned around _that_ easily.

Caesar was a fool, and so was Luc. All of them were idiots. Even Sarah. What was she doing? Why did she work towards Luc's goal? What had she to gain? Yuber at least had the promise of blood and pain and death, the things he craved and revered above all. Sarah didn't seem to have a purpose. She was another idiot, more so than the others. At least Luc and Yuber had ambition; Sarah followed mindlessly. A doll, that's what she was--a puppet of Luc's to do with as he pleased.

But not Albert. Oh, no--not Albert. He had fooled them all. Cunning, clever Albert. Crafty, witty, and--

--and he knew he'd just been this way twice!

Albert stopped on the bridge, for the third time in passing. Something wasn't right... He walked over to the side again, looking down below. It looked...familiar...but, dammit, everything looked the same!

He looked around, but for as far as he could see, in all directions, the labyrinth just stretched on and on and on...

He could almost hear laughing, the mocking voice of a playful child. But it wasn't really there... was it?

"Oh, no," he muttered to himself, or whatever invisible foe he was dealing with. "You're not getting the best of me--not after I've come so far."

Albert tore a bit of his jacket. It pained him to do so; he loved that coat.

But, he reminded himself, with his newfound position in the government, his new title and land, he'd be able to afford dozens more like it.

He let the piece of his garment fall, watching it float quickly down to the road below. "Ha!" he said, confident that he'd outsmarted...whatever. Now he would be able to tell for sure whether or not he had been walking in circles. He crossed the bridge for the third time.

The fourth time Albert crossed that bridge, he wasn't surprised to see the piece of cloth lying down below.

It wasn't very far to jump.

Albert clung to the edge, looking down below and readying his legs for the impact. Then he let go.

He landed, falling to a crouch, but after a slight jar, he was fine. Nothing broken, fractured, or bruised.

He bent to retrieve the piece of cloth he'd lost. Then he looked up, to bid a haughty farewell to the bridge that thought it had fooled him and failed, but he stopped mid-smirk when he saw the shadow watching him.

It was gone as quickly as it had shown itself, and it left Albert confused, and not a little nervous. He found himself walking almost too slowly in an effort to look calm. He couldn't resist the paranoia that forced him to check over his shoulder so many times.

How long he had walked, he couldn't be sure. It was still daylight, amazingly. It should have been getting dark... It had been late, late afternoon when he'd entered that temple. After what had taken place inside, after his multiple crossings of...that bridge--yes, it should have been getting darker. But the day seemed intent on staying with him.

Ah, well... He should be nearing the end of the path soon. He'd be out of the maze before long, and on his way back to Harmonia in triumph.

But then--_there was that goddamn bridge again!_

Albert stopped dead in his tracks, a frown more of worry than confusion now settling on his usually apathetic face. He walked very slowly, very shakily over to the edge to look over. It looked the same, but since he'd picked up the bit of his jacket he just couldn't be sure....

But that was a ridiculous notion; he must be tired.

After crossing that same bridge twice more, he was no longer sure that fatigue was the answer.

God! How long had he been going on like this? Hadn't he crossed this bridge a dozen times? Hadn't he been walking all day? It felt like it had been longer, somehow.

A giggle. It wasn't in his head--he'd heard it this time, he felt sure.

Albert rushed over the edge of the bridge--yet again--and caught just a glimpse of a shadow running down another path, its form obscured by toppled, crumbling walls.

"Hey! Wait! I said _wait_, you--!"

The figure wasn't stopping for him. Angrily, he started climbing over the side of the bridge, again.

"Halt! That is an order! Don't you know who I am?"

Fool! He'd pay when Albert caught him, whoever he was.

"Unf!" It hurt a little more this time, since his legs were getting so tired. Standing up and brushing himself off once more, Albert looked around to see which way that guy had gone. He was probably hiding somewhere, waiting for Albert to catch up, just so he could follow and taunt him.

Albert took another path. He walked for hours--

--and ended up back at the bridge.

"What is this?!" he screamed, to no one in particular. Or maybe...to...someone. "Why are you doing this to me?! Just let me go!!!"

Laughter. Mocking, amused.

Albert wasn't laughing, and he wasn't amused. "Why?!" he yelled. "Why must I be punished? It wasn't my idea! It wasn't my fault--!"

What was he yelling about? He didn't remember. Something... But...oh..._what_....? He only remembered crossing that bridge so many times and wanting to leave, but he was beginning to forget why he had to get away. Other than, of course, the fact that he was sick of crossing the same bridge, over and over and over again.

"God, just let me out of this maze!!!" Albert finally fell to his knees, crying out, begging.

"I'll show you the way out."

Albert lifted his head, then held it tightly as a terrible wave of dizziness suddenly hit him with its wrathful intensity. Everything was foggy, blurred, and grey--but he could make out a shadowy figure standing before him, a voice that almost belonged to him, but sounding as he had in his youth.

The fog whisked away as quickly as it had crept in, and the dark form that he hadn't recognized became bright with color, slowly, as though a candle had just been lit in a pitch-black room. Then Albert could see his little brother standing before him, his perpetually sleepy eyes peering down at him with...what? _Love?_

Ridiculous. It was amusement, surely.

"What the hell do you want?" Albert asked, gagging as his mouth filled with blood.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Albert growled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, reminding himself again that he could always buy a new coat. But the blood was thick and there was so much of it... Albert coughed up what he could, scared because he didn't know why he was coughing up blood to begin with, and also because someone was seeing him so vulnerable. And that meant he had some fault, a flaw. But he knew better.

Caesar was shaking his head, his eyes almost sad. But they'd always looked that way...hadn't they?

"I know what it's like, Albert," Caesar said quietly.

"You don't know shit," Albert spat back, wondering why his back ached so badly.

"I know how to get out of this trap," Caesar argued gently. "I can take you home, Albert."

The older man snorted. "What? You expect me to walk through the Harmonian gates with--with _you_?" He shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. "Like hell."

Caesar's face went completely blank, his eyes looking out hollowly at nothing. "Like...hell..."

"If you don't mind getting out of my goddamned way, I need to be going now." Albert started forward. He was glad he sounded more like his old self--confident and in control. But Caesar didn't move from where he blocked his path on the bridge. "I'm not asking again."

"Neither am I," Caesar said, his tone pleading. "You're going the wrong way, Albert. You've been following the wrong path. Come with me!"

"I'm not following you anywhere!" the elder Silverberg snarled.

"I'm not asking you to follow me," Caesar said in earnest. "I'm asking you to let me help you, to show you the way--so we can go together!"

Albert got right in Caesar's face. "This is your final chance."

"And this is yours."

"Fuck you!" Albert wasn't wasting any more time, and while it was nice and quiet...and no one was watching, he might as well shut his brother up for good.

He hardly knew what had happened. He hardly believed he'd been capable of it. But there he was, standing on the bridge and looking down, and there was his brother's broken body, splattered all over the ground. Strange... He hadn't thought the bridge to be quite that high. Hadn't he himself jumped down twice?

_Pathetic weakling._

Albert laughed out loud at himself. He was starting to sound like Yuber. He was starting to think like him, too, maybe.

_I guess there's a little demon in us all._

He turned around, feeling the eyes on him before he saw the shadow. But there it was--a shadowy form at the end of the bridge, just as before.

"Huh--?! How--no!!!" Albert shook his head hard, rubbing his eyes. He had to be seeing things. And then he opened his eyes wide, and looked, and it was gone. He smirked again, but with much less assurance than he'd felt when this terrible journey had started. He hated to feel helpless, but until he'd killed Caesar a moment ago, he'd felt quite powerless in the situation at hand--lost and getting frightened. His ego had been bruised when he'd had to confront the fact that he was lost.

But _now_--! Now he was getting somewhere. Possibly.

_Just in case..._

Albert took a peek over the side of the bridge, just to make sure.

Caesar's body was gone.

Albert rushed to the opposing side, his heart in his throat, hope against hope, fear against fear.

Nothing.

Caesar's body was gone.

"Oh... God..."

Then, his eyes spied the shadow; it was running from him.

_Not this time--!  
_  
Albert climbed over the side of the bridge again and let himself drop down lightly, barely an impact. And yet, it was extremely painful this time. His legs ached and burned like the bones had cracked from the fall. But he wouldn't let his body give up now.

Things looked sort of different this time. Like... maybe before there had been too many paths to choose from, and he'd continuously made the wrong decisions. Now, though, there was but one path to follow; he had no choice.

Albert followed the old, rocky road all the way back...

...to the temple.

The column he'd seen before--the one that had almost smashed him--was blocking his path. That was the only way that shadowy figure--was it Caesar?--could have gone. There was no way around the huge pillar, so where...?

Something was poking out a bit from under the stone support. Albert ceased to breathe as he stepped closer, his eyes widening impossibly as he realized what was caught under the colossal stone structure.

Albert Silverberg collapsed to his knees, his bones crushing audibly and painfully as his lungs resurged with blood.


	4. Luc's Imprisonment

**Part IV: Luc's Imprisonment**

_"He has hedged me in so that I cannot get out;_

_He has made my chain heavy._

_He has blocked my ways with hewn stone..."_

**Lamentations 3:7; 3:9**

Luc came to gradually, groggily tossing his head this way and that, trying to force himself to consciousness. He hated being in the dark--in more ways than one. He had to pry his eyes open, had to know what was going on...

Slowly, his lids began to respond, though it stung to lift them even the slightest bit. Not, not stung--ached. He choked on the dusty air, trying to wipe the debris from his eyes but found his arms caught in the hold of..._something_.

Luc twisted his body, to no avail. Something had a firm grasp on him, and it felt strangely like a pile of rocks. He shook his head hard, trying to get the tiny particles off of his lids so he could see just how bad the damage was. He kicked his legs unintentionally, confirming that ony his torso seemed affected. Finally, he was able to blink his green eyes open, then stared in shocked horror at what had him in its grip.

It was Sarah.

But it wasn't--_coudn't_ have been. Because she was made of rock, nothing more than a statue.

For a long time, Luc looked up into the face that seemed so familiar, but now without that spark of life he'd drawn his strength from.

Or _had_ it been strength? Hadn't he just used her? Wasn't she just a burden, after all?

Sarah's effigy was grey like the rubble around them, her head bowed and eyes closed, knelt as though in prayer...but Luc knew that Sarah never prayed. Worshiped _him_, yes; but she didn't pray to anyone.

He was glad the statue's eyes were closed. He didn't know how long they'd been in the ruins that had once been the temple of the Sindar, but if he was going to be stuck for a while, he didn't want the girl's bent head facing him and her cold eyes staring at him. She would have been the perfect vision of an angel, had her hands been clasped in prayer instead of pinning Luc down.

Guardian angel...

_No, this bitch has to let me go!_

Luc struggled in the stone's grasp, but he couldn't wriggle free. She was holding him too tightly--he'd have to lose both arms and probably half his torso to be able to get away.

The mage tried conjuring up a spell, but his hand only burned when he tried to use his rune. He didn't know what was wrong; he'd never felt that kind of sensation...he didn't think. His mind was just a tad bit foggy at the moment... Maybe he could break the rock...?

Luc struggled harder, but the stone arms didn't budge. He decided he'd best wait until some of his strength came back. He just needed a few minutes to wake up, to think.

Letting his mind wander, he began to remember letting himself be held in Sarah's lap, but that was only because he'd been too weak to fight her off. He hated being coddled like a child; he was a 30 year-old man, for God's sakes, and old enough by now to take care of himself. He'd had Leknaat playing mother with him for all those years; he didn't need or want Sarah becoming his big sister suddenly.

Sister...? That's never how she'd felt about him.

Looking up at the closed, sad eyes of the all-too-realistic figure holding him, Luc acknowledged the truth at last--Sarah had loved him. He had used her, abused her, and felt no remorse, and yet she'd loved him. Why? He hadn't cared--still didn't. He couldn't--not while Sasarai lived. He hated his brother with all his black heart, would have destroyed the world and everyone in it just to see his face twisted in agony--oh, just once!

But it was distressing to know that Sarah had forgiven him all this. And she loved him so much she wanted to protect him forever, especially unsettling now that he was caught in her jealous arms for...how long?

_Not for much longer_, Luc swore to himself. He'd break free of her grasp, and--since he'd obviously somehow survived this disaster--he'd go after his elder brother like the very wrath of God.

God...

Hadn't he tried to kill God?

Yes, and failed miserably, taking down countless lives--and souls--with him.

"Get a grip, Luc," he mumbled aloud. No need to be so hard on himself. This wasn't entirely his fault.

Of course not.

_That's why we all have to share this punishment._

Luc frowned, wondering if the thoughts were his or...or somehow, was...?

"...Sarah?"

Luc was whispering to the statue, as afraid as at the same time hopeful that there would be a reply.

"Sarah...are you in there?"

No answer.

_I'm losing it._

Finally deciding he was more conscious and regaining his strength, Luc gave a shove and tried to break free again of the sorceress's tight hold. No progress whatsoever. She had him good.

"Never did want to let me go, did you, you bitch?" he muttered. He hoped she was in there, listening to everything. He wasn't through with her yet.

All the squirming he was doing was only tearing at his jacket, and where it was open in the front, the rough stone of the statue was ripping through his thin shirt and scraping the tender flesh from his chest. He gave up his futile struggle against the stone, and tried instead to talk it into letting go.

"Sarah...you're dead. Don't you know that? Let me go; I've still got a life to live. I still have my revenge to exact! This is all Sasarai's fault; I've got to kill him, Sarah. Let me go, so I can set your soul free."

There was no reply.

He should have known better than to pray to an idol.

Luc didn't move for a long time. There was nothing to do, nothing to think about or to say. He was alone, imprisoned in Sarah's arms of stone. If he let himself think about it, he would have a thousand regrets flashing through his mind, and that would never get him out of this predicament. He didn't have a clue how to free himself. His rune was useless...but that might have been partly because he'd forgotten how to use it.

"This is all your fault," he grumbled at the statue after several days (it seemed) had passed. "I could have been out of here a long time ago, if only you hadn't wanted to keep me all to yourself. You probably did this. I'll bet you made this place crumble to ruins, then turned yourself to stone, knowing damn well I'd be stuck in your cold embrace until my own death."

Death...hadn't he wanted that? Peace?

This was not peace--being locked in the witch's arms for the rest of eternity...

This was hell.

_And that's where I belong. In hell. With Sarah. With Yuber and Albert..._

Luc ignored the fact that these thoughts were flowing through his mind unbidden, and instead focused on the latter mentioned. Yuber! Albert! Where could they be right now? Yuber had a tendency to run like chickenshit the moment he'd gotten his fill of blood and death; Albert... Albert was probably halfway back to Harmonia by now, the bastard, gloating over the success of his egocentric schemes. So that meant no one could help him--Sarah was unwilling, or perhaps unable, and she was the only one within reach.

_Within reach. That's a sick joke._

Luc sighed out loud, but it hurt. The dust in the air stung the insides of his nose and tasted terrible in his mouth, and the pressure of two rock-hard arms pressing into his chest prevented his lungs from getting their fill, as it was. How long must he stay this way?!

As the days--weeks--months--years--seconds--passed, he began to wish he would die. God!!! How long had it been since his last meal? Why wasn't he hungry? The air was so dusty and dry. Why didn't he thirst?

It was impossible, really, for time to be passing, if he had no natural physical needs like that. But why, then, had his hair doubled--the tripled--in length? Why were there now white strands tickling his neck and falling into his eyes where once there had been auburn?

He couldn't sleep. All that time... and he hadn't even been able to keep his eyes closed. There was simply no fatigue. He felt refreshed, awake, clean and relaxed. But that was just his body. His mind was alive, and quickly losing sanity.

Or so he wished. If he could just give in to madness, perhaps it wouldn't matter any more that he was trapped this way.

Or perhaps he was already mad.

Luc had been hearing a faint shuffling sound for some time now, but had convinced himself that he was imagining it. Now it seemed a bit louder, a bit nearer. _Rats?_ he wondered. _Splendid._

But it didn't sound like rats. Maybe just one big one. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

Luc tensed, unsure of whether to worry or not. It was getting closer, but he didn't yet know if it was dangerous or not. It could be something larger and more menacing. It could even be help coming. The chances of that were slim, but if he called out... If he shouted, he might scare away anything that might potentially harm him. And if instead he attracted its attention, then so be it; what else was he going to do? Lie in Sarah's arms and wait to die of old age?

"He-e-e-e-elp!" Luc rasped. No good. It had been so long since he had spoken, his vocal cords seemed to have dried up. He choked on the dust that had settled inside his throat, then tried again. "Heeeeelp!" His voice sounded a little stronger. "Help!" he tried again. "Can you hear me? Someone help me! God, please help me!!"

He paused, listening as the echo of his shout faded. Then he heard the shuffling sound again, ever closer, but not approaching any faster.

"Help!" Luc cried again, but this time from fear. His mind didn't try to rationalize the overwhelming sense of dread that had washed over him, but now more than ever he was frantic to escape Sarah's merciless grasp. He kicked and writhed, screaming in terror as the THING approached.

The shuffling was loud now. He could see its misshapen shadow coming up from around the corner. Tears streamed from his wide eyes as he pressed himself into Sarah's cold arms for protection. But he knew she couldn't save him from reality.

Albert Silverberg shuffled slowly into view. He was splattered with blood from head to toe, his clothes ragged and filthy. He was dragging his leg at an impossible angle, leaving a dark stain in its wake.

Luc's horror became disgust as he watched his one-time companion creep slowly nearer. "...Albert?" he hissed. "Is it you?"

The strategist did not answer; he merely continued to shuffle forward, his head hung low and his hair falling forward, covering his face.

Luc watched him getting closer and closer. "What's the matter with you?" No answer. "What happened, Albert? What happened to you?" Still no reply.

Now Albert stopped to stand before him, balanced precariously on one leg, while the other lagged awkwardly behind.

Luc's heart began to pound furiously. "What's the matter?" he demanded. "Will you not speak?!"

Albert seemed still suddenly, moreso than he had seemed a moment before. Was he going to just stand there forever? Would he turn to stone like Sarah had? At least he wasn't looking at Luc; he didn't want anyone's eyes staring at him, stone or not.

But Albert wasn't finished. He slowly lifted his head to look at Luc, the cracking sound of his neck straightening echoing revoltingly in the hollow cavern. The face that peered out at Luc from behind the long, blood-matted hair was hardly human. It was, rather, a bulbous mass of pus and blood, with just a hint of bone underneath.

With a strangled cry, Luc jerked violently in Sarah's grasp. Albert's eye--the one that hadn't been forced back into his skull--was staring at him. The expression of the creature he had become was unreadable, his features just a splatter on the image that should have been his face.

"What?!" Luc screamed. "What do you want from me!? What do you want?!"

"I... want..."

Luc stopped shouting long enough to listen as the thing began to slowly speak.

Albert's throat filled with blood, which then burbled profusely out of his mouth. His teeth had torn through his lips when the columns of the ruins had crushed his body, so every word he spoke brought another gush of blood to plaster the gaping hole that had been his mouth.

"Yooou..." he rasped.

"W-what?" Luc whimpered.

"Luc... I have..." Suddenly blood spurted from Albert's mouth, splashing onto Luc's face and freezing him with horror. "I have come for you."

Blood poured as though from a faucet, and Luc trembled as Albert's head appeared to melt and collapse into itself. Yet the body remained standing, its leg trapped in that awful pose, the sight causing hot bile to burn at the back of Luc's throat. He closed his eyes shut tight, clamping his lips together firmly and willing himself to think about something other than the frightening specter that had just come to him, but there was nothing else to think about. It was all he knew.

Gradually he became aware of a different sensation. There was a high-pitched whine in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck rose like from an electric current. He somehow recognized the stir of a teleportation spell, and allowed his lids to flutter open once more. Albert's crushed figure remained standing in front of him, but to the right of it the floor was glowing and wavering, and another moment later the effects of the spell were gone, and there stood Yuber, looking ragged but whole.

"Thank God you're here!" Luc choked. "Get this thing off me" --he writhed in the statue's grasp-- "and let's get out of here!"

"All in good time," Yuber said quietly. His words seemed slurred, like they were wobbling.

"W-what do you mean?" Luc asked warily, sensing that something wasn't as it should be.

"We have to wait for Sarah," Yuber replied, as though it were obvious. His jaw moved mechanically but unrealistically, opening too wide and swinging like it was on a loose hinge. The inside of his mouth was stained crimson and violet, and his teeth were tainted the color of blood. His eyes appeared dull, and where they had been mismatched in color, now they were the same sallow shade. His shirt was gone, as were his hat and boots. His pants had been torn off below the knees, and Luc could see that the half-demon's entire body was covered in open blisters and boils. And...where were his swords?

Luc felt his body give a shiver. "Sarah's right here, Yuber!" he shouted. "The bitch has me stuck, can't you see? Why don't you go and find something to get me out of this?"

"That's why we're here," Yuber nodded slowly, his lower jaw continuing to move after the words had fallen from his mouth. "To take you away."

"_We_? How can you?! Look at Silverberg!" he shouted back at him, but Yuber didn't turn his head, or even respond. "All right, then," Luc growled. "Forget it. I'll get out of here by myself!" He jerked hard, and heard something crack. But it was his shoulder, not the statue. He gave a sharp cry of pain, his eyes blurring. He tried another tactic, pushing with all his might with his legs, trying to move in the rock's embrace.

There had to be some way out of this! If he could move just a little... But he couldn't. The bottoms of his boots scraped against the hard floor, sending little pebbles flying, but he didn't budge, and neither did the statue. After a few moments of futile thrashing, he gave up once again and with a whimper of hopelessness, collapsed in Sarah's arms.

Albert and Yuber would be of no help. They stood still as statues themselves, though Yuber's mouth was in constant motion. It looked like he was chewing something, but his mouth never did manage to quite close completely. It was any wonder Albert was standing upright. Looking at them made Luc sick. They had always made him sick--Yuber with his thirst for blood and Albert with his selfish ambitions. They were useless from the beginning. He realized that now. If only he had known that sooner--!

_Next time_, he swore. _Next time, there will be no mistake!_

But why should there be a next time? Why should he choose anyone else? They were damned from the start, all of them. It had been his scheme that was the problem.

Luc squeezed his eyes shut tight, growling with rage. "Who's...saying that?! Who's putting these ideas into my head? Get out! Get out of my mind, damn you!"

"He is everywhere," Yuber wailed in a frightening tone that Luc had never heard before. The bishop's eyes flew open and he cried out in horror as Yuber's jaw began to rip loose from his face. His colorless cheeks sagged as though they were melting, his mouth opening wider and wider. He didn't even appear to be straining to make such a ghastly expression; his face just smeared until, with a sickening dripping sound, his jaw dropped to the floor, leaving behind a grisly mask with torn, frayed cheeks and a snake-like tongue that lapped all over the upper lip of his mouth, eagerly drinking in the blood its lower half had left behind.

Luc wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and scream, until someone on this God-forsaken planet heard him and came to see what was wrong. But no sound would come from his raw throat.

He was too frightened to look away, too frightened to speak. He laid there shaking, choking, until vaguely he became aware of the coldness in the cavern.

Perhaps it was the sight of his own breath that made him realize something new was approaching, if not the icy air that poured in from somewhere unknown. But before long, he could see the shadow of something coming from around the corner of the cave in the direction that Albert had come from just a while before. What could this be? The things before him had once been Albert and Yuber, and Sarah had him locked in her cold embrace, so what was it?!

Water.

At first he wasn't certain. Peering between the standing corpses of Albert and Yuber, he thought he saw the glimmering reflection of water on the rock wall. But how could that be? There wasn't a river or even so much as a stream nearby.

Yet the water pooled in slowly, the sound of it growing louder as it rolled in like a slow-moving, gentle ocean wave. And with it came light, bright light. This wasn't a comforting sight, however. Luc felt something cold and unforgiving in that light, and above all else he did not want to be caught by it. Stay here with Albert-corpse and Yuber-corpse--fine. Be drowned in the icy blue waters slowly reaching for him--fine. But not the light!

For a moment Luc thought that the water really would reach far enough to wet him, if not drown him. But it seemed to reach a certain point and stop there, still flowing like ocean waves; it appeared to have served its purpose. Which meant there was more yet to come.

_And here she is._

He knew it was Sarah, despite the cold grip of the statue holding him. Who else could it be? He wasn't surprised to see the pale, bluish figure of a woman approaching, walking toward him with the water up to her knees. She came directly out of that light and came at him slowly, unhurried. It was time to leave. The end. Why rush? It was the last moment they would share on earth.

The magess came closer, and soon she was merely wading in cool, gentle surf. She was less ragged than her fellow cadavers, but somehow her visage was all the more frightening. Her skin was pallid with a bluish hue, stretched tightly over her bony, thin face. But it was her eyes that were most horrifying. They bulged from her skull as though they belonged to a much larger creature, and they had no irises, no pupils, and no white; they were simply pale, yellow egg-yokes floating in her face.

"Luc.....!"

Suddenly he no longer felt the statue's hold on his weak body. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the cold floor, his head hung in defeat. He let out a lengthy sigh, one that he'd been holding back for so long. His white hair fell around him where he reclined, and he somehow knew that he must not look any better than the others. Gathering his strength and slowly staggering to his feet, he looked up to meet her gaze with his weary eyes. "I'm ready," he said hoarsely. "Let's go."

"...Together?" She looked at him hopefully.

He nodded slowly. "Together."

Sarah let out a little cry. She'd have cried if only her eyes hadn't rotted so long ago. She watched as Yuber turned to face her, but he didn't look at her. He simply stepped into the water, which turned a few shades darker around his ankles. The darkness spread as he walked, and by the time Albert Silverberg had managed to shuffle his broken body in the right direction and step toward the light, the water was already black.

Luc looked down, afraid to follow them, but afraid not to. He knew, after all, that he'd already made his choice; this was the consequence of his decision.

"Together?"

Looking up again, he saw that Sarah's cold, dead hand was reaching for his eagerly. Up ahead Albert and Yuber had turned back, waiting.

Luc reached out and took Sarah's hand. Together they went to meet their friends, and together the four of them walked into the light.

_The Lord has done what He purposed; _

_He has fulfilled His word _

_Which He commanded in the days of old._

_He has thrown down and has not pitied._

In the day of the Lord's anger

There was no refugee or survivor.

**THE END**


End file.
